


I Left Me Behind

by Writer_by_Heart



Category: Original Work
Genre: Growing Up, Internal Monologue, Loss of Faith, Loss of Trust, Masks, Nihilism, Past Suicidal Thoughts, References to Depression, Social Issues, kinda sad, thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 16:18:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10597674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_by_Heart/pseuds/Writer_by_Heart
Summary: It's too dull and never good enough. This is supposed to be better. It's supposed to be something– something more.But it's not. It never is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Originally posted on Hermit

She hates the lighting in her bathroom. It's too dull and never good enough. You can never look at your reflection correctly with the poor light available and one bulb of the three above flickers more often than not even though they replace it all the time. She hates the mirror, always filthy and old. She hates the walls and floor, always stained and the tile is an ugly yellow with a pattern that should've died in the 90's. She realizes she hates the whole room. It always smells of piss and mold and depression and if she takes the scent in too long she'll gag.

This is supposed to be better. It's supposed to be something– something more. Because this is a bathroom in a house. Their first house bathroom after having bathrooms in apartment after apartment after apartment. Now she knows it doesn't matter. It's still always the place where you take a dump. A bathroom is still a bathroom. A bedroom is still a bedroom. A kitchen is still a kitchen. The only thing that's changed is it cost more.

The person she used to be wouldn't understand that. That girl would hope for a house. Would want a yard to call their own and a parking spot they never have to share. She would take pride in having it, because they worked hard to get it and it's theirs. It would have more worth.

The girl she is now thinks it's fool's gold like most things are in life.

If she were to take a look at the girl she was, the girl with brighter eyes and shy smiles she used to have, she would look at her ask who she was.

The girl she used to be would ask that too.

They're different even if they have inhabited the same shell of a person throughout time.

She had once been a sugary little thing, believed in everyone, that even the meanest of people had a little bit of kindness to them somewhere inside. She would break her spine bending over backwards for others. She would smile just to makes others happy while she tore herself apart. She'd let harsh words ruin her day and later she'd cry herself to sleep at night pleading for an answer as to why she wasn't good enough.

'What a doormat,’ the present vision thought as she fixed her hair.

The look-a-like from the past was too timid, too insecure. She'd jump at her own shadow, the poor pathetic thing. Anxiety and depression had constantly ate at her, chipping her will to live and self-worth away. It was sad how ugly, ill-intelligent, pointless, and useless she had thought she really was. How she had not offed herself is a wonder.

Now a days, she knows she's pretty naturally, untouched by store bought products when she wants her face to be. When she does she can make herself beautiful, with the right shade of foundation, the right black of mascara, the right application of lipstick. Like a five year old playing dress up. Like a canvas awaiting a masterpiece in itself. Never too much, never too little. She knows what to do by now.

Instead of nibbling on her lips, tearing the skin when she's nervous, she pursues them like she's debating you're worth her time. Instead of hiding behind her hair when anxious, she pushes her blonde locks out of the way of her eyes that glare icy blue daggers. Instead of ducking her head, shying away; submitting she isn't worth your gaze, she stares back, daring you to not look away. Instead of mumbling swears under her breath, too soft for another to hear her sorrows, she bites, spitting sharp words with her silver tongue.

The her she evolved from, the girl she once was, had the undying need to impress, to be praised. The girl had wanted attention, had wanted love. She'd give off this innocent 'please notice me' act.

She used to be naive, the girl in the present muses. Now, she knows the depth of the darkness in a person's eyes. She understands the world runs around greed, pride, and lust. She understands humans more. She learns how they operate, what makes them tick. She learns of how much you can figure out just by shutting the hell up and observing. She watches how a person talks, how they move and function, their thought track. She takes a step back, looks at the reasons, at the ideas of a person's actions; what they are thinking when they do something. She sits and wonders if the world is really so black and white to most people.

She stops and thinks about things kids her age probably don't. Or maybe they do. She thinks about how the world is really less about truth and lies, and more of opinions. If a religious seed is planted into the head of a child, do they not believe in a God? If a child is told a thing is wrong, do they often follow the lead of their family that tells them to? Perhaps actions we grow up to believe taboo are merely wrong because that is what society as set in our minds. Is the justice of what is wrong and what is right merely the popular opinion? One place, if you were to cut off a man's hand, it is gruesome, but in another it is a punishment by law? Then what, the girl wonders, is the 'truth' anymore? Our lives are set by opinions made by those before us. Things as murder, theft, infidelity, are concepts we are told are terrible, because more often than not they cannot be swallowed by others; nobody wants it to happen to them. It's a funny thing how the world is shaped. She figures it out and understands she's more observant than she originally thought.

After that, she soon realizes, hey, she can use this. She can flutter her eyelashes and sweeten her smiles to get what she wants. She can make her voice cheerful, grow a sense of humor. She puts effort into creating a friendly aura she uses to lure people in; a human venus fly trap. She can catch the way a person's eyes soften at her, the short moments of flush cheeks. She notices the pitiful crush they have on her before maybe even they do. She looks at it as a thing to exploit, milk it for all it's worth. Why not? They are only hormonal teenagers, and even if they aren't whatever the person is feeling will still be temporary; the feelings will pass soon enough anyway. Besides, she's not sure she could ever truly love someone as that. A feeling such as that is dangerous, distracting. It weakens your senses and messes with your judgment.

No thank you.

It's not just those who are love-struck either. She learns what to watch for, takes in everything a person unknowingly shows her, and figures out what to say, what to do. She pays attention to detail of behavior and what a person favors and uses them to let the other get comfortable with her.

And it might be wrong to use others. She's sure kids her age would have a gun loaded with names to shoot at her if her mask ever slips. She'll be labeled off as 'fake' and 'manipulative', most likely 'bitch' several times too. Her mask though, will never slip, never crack. Like wine, it perfects with age, and she's worn this front so long she's not sure if she could remove it if she wanted to. It scares– unnerves her, how there's a possibility this isn't even an act anymore; that this is all she is now. A pretty surface with a hollow inside. At least it's convincing.

She doesn't care if people think it's 'wrong'. It's not her fault the world is a corrupted, unfair, and unsafe place. She just knows how to survive in it. Might as well end up on top. What else is there to do than be–

She shakes her head, setting her hair brush down. She's getting of topic. Her mind wonders about inside her brain when she doesn't stay focused, a common thing now. Too many thoughts harbor inside her mind at once, it's chaotic, never at peace. With one last check in the mirror she walks out.

She has places to be and a show to put on.

 

.

**Author's Note:**

> Any thoughts?


End file.
